


Fix

by pinecovewoods



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Brief description of violence, F/M, Race is an IDIOT, What's new, and wounds, not too over the top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinecovewoods/pseuds/pinecovewoods
Summary: "Antonio Higgins, you cannot have the first time you tell me you love me sound like your final words."





	Fix

"I wish we didn't have to keep this a secret," Race mumbles as the girl tucks her head into the space between his neck and his shoulder, "but Spot would kill me if he knew I's even dared t' look at his favorite girl."

"I ain't his favorite girl," she shoves him lightly, "if anything Checks is, not me."

"Either way, Conlon wouldn't like the thought of some Manhattan dweller makin' eyes at a Brooklyn newsie," Race says, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "you's worth it though, don't get me wrong."

She hums a response, eyes fixed on the Brooklyn skyline in the distance as he holds her.

"I should be gettin' back," she whispers reluctantly, " Spot'll start to worry if I get back any later."

"Do you have to?" Race asks knowingly. "There's nothin' I'd like more than to fall asleep with you in my arms for once."

"You's a sappy one," she smiles, chastely kissing his lips for a second, "but you knows I can't. Spot would loose his mind, 'n he'd soak every newsie in 'Hattan without even a second thought."

"Yeah I know," Race sighs, removing his arms from around her waist so she can stand, "I'll see you's tomorrow doll."

The girl smiles softly, leaning down and pressing a final kiss before she leaves, slipping down the fire escape and into the New York night.

"You got back late last night," Checks teases as they stand in line for papers, the girl raising her eyebrows, "somethin' keep you out? _Someone_ keep you out?"

"Oh god, Checks," the girl rolls her eyes, "shut up 'n getcha papes 'fore the day ends."

"I'm jus' sayin'," Checks shrugs, pressing her coins into the distributors palm, "it ain't a secret that you's got someone who's sweet on ya, I'm jus' tryna figure out it is."

"You's been at the whiskey again?" She asks. "You's talkin' nonsense."

"I'll get the truth outta ya one'a these days, Spades," Checks calls as the girl walks towards her selling spot, "just you wait."

It's late that night when someone pounds on the front door, Spot getting up from the card game between himself, Checks, and Spades to answer it. 

"What the hell are you's doin' 'ere!?" Spot shouts from the front door, Check shooting out of her seat to see what was wrong. 

"Spades!" She hears a few moments later, eyes widening at the serious tone in Spot's voice. "You betta get in 'ere!"

She does as he says, making her way into the front room with anxiety in each step. When her eyes land on him, she almost collapses, eyes filling with tears.

"Oh my god, Race," she breathes, falling to her knees beside the fragile boy, holding his head in her hands, "what happened, who did this to you?"

Race stutters his words, lip bleeding as he speaks, "I'm fine, I jus' needa rest 'fore I make it the rest'a the way to Manhattan."

"You's in no condition to make it up stairs let along to 'Hattan," she says, looking up at Spot, "Spot, please, you can't make 'im go back in this state."

Spot stands solemn, unmoving except for his fingers tapping against his thigh.

"Aight, bring 'im to your room, Spades," he finally says, "keep 'im 'ere til you's think he's ready to go back. We'll talk 'bout..." he stops, looking between the boy on the floor and his third in command, gesturing at the two of them, "all this, later."

The girl nods, putting Race's arm around her shoulders and helping him up the stairs and to her room, laying him down on the bed as a groan slips through his lips.

"Jesus, Antonio," she breathes as she lifts his shirt, eyes falling on the bruises littering his torso, "what the hell happened?"

"Was out sellin', some Bronx kids came up," he stops as she completely removes his shirt, "they started in Crutchie, callin' 'im all kinds'a names 'n such...I retaliated, punched one'a them in the jaw. Got a few good hits in 'fore they ganged up on me."

She shakes her head, speechless. 

"I..." Race breathes in shakily, "I'm really tired, doll. Do you's think I could sleep some?"

"Did you's get hit on the head at all?" She asks.

"Nah," he shuts his eyes, "they knocked me down and kept at my stomach."

She swallows, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Aight, go to sleep," she whispers, "we'll deal with everything in the mornin'."

Race hums in response, soft snores filling the room soon after.

"He gonna be okay?" Checks asks from the door.

"He's bruised, but he'll live," Spades says, stroking his hair, "god he's such an idiot."

"Hmm," Checks replies, "Spot wants us in his room, if you thinks you can leaves him."

"Yeah, he'll be fine."

She follows Checks up to Spot's room, swallowing back her anxiety.

"I's gonna ask this question, even though I thinks I know the answer," Spot says, turning around to face her as he continues, "what made him decide to show up here of all places?"

"Dunno," Spades replies, shoving her hands in her pockets, "suppose it was the closest place."

Spot takes a deep breath, looking at the girl with seriousness written all over his face. He speaks evenly, but the anger is evident.

"And why, exactly, did he ask for you by name?"

"Suppose you was bound t' find out," she sighs, running a hand through her hair, "Race 'n I are together, 'n I guess he came 'ere because he was hurt 'n he'd knew I'd be 'ere. I knows you don't approve of 'Hattan, but I can't help the way I feel."

Spot pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy breath.

"You and..." Checks stops, shaking her head, "christ, Spades, outta all the fellas in New York you's had to go for the second in command of 'Hattan?"

"It ain't like I chose it," the girl defends, "things just...happened."

Before either of the Brooklyn teens could respond, a shout is heard from down the hall. Spot lets out another sigh.

"What the hell..."

"Sorry to interrupt," Hotshot throws open the door and enters the room, "it's the 'Hattan boy, he's kinda freakin' out."

"Oh god, Race," Spades breathes, running out of Spot's room and into her own.

Her eyes land on the boy thrashing around in her bed, eyes squeezed tight as he lets out intermediate noises, her heart dropping.

She's by his side before she realizes she's even taken the steps, hand on his forehead.

"He's burnin' up," she mumbles, eyes scanning over his body as she searches for the culprit.

She finds it soon enough, a deep wound next to his hip bone below his waist, sticky blood seeping through the cut and onto his pants and the mattress. 

"Shit," she almost shouts, "Checks, get the first aid kit, now."

"What's goin' on?" Spot asks from the doorway, a bit of worry slipping through his words.

"He's bleeding, possibly infected," Spades says, hand on his forehead, "I think he's havin' a nightmare too, 'n all the movin' around ain't helpin'."

"Can you help 'im?"

"Why do you suddenly care?" She spits. "You was 'bout t' turn 'im out 'fore I convinced ya to let 'im stay. Imagine if he'd been halfway t' 'Hattan 'n this happened?!"

Spot's response is cut off by Checks walking back into the room, first aid kit in hand. Spades thanks her quickly, turning her full attention to the boy on her bed.

"Hey, Racer, you's jus' dreamin', you's okay," she says gently, smoothing his hair back, "c'mon Race, you've got to calm down before I can fix you up, okay?"

Race stops thrashing, eyes still closed as a few whimpers escape his lips.

"Shh, you's okay," she says, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, "you's safe, I promise."

The blonde finally opens his eyes, wide and terror-filled as he looks up at her.

"Y-Y/N?"

"I'm 'ere, Tonio," she whispers, "you's awake now, 'n I'm here."

"Fee-" the boy coughs, groaning as he does, "feel like shit. Wha's goin' on?"

"You didn't tell me you's got stabbed," she says, opening the fist aid kit and rummaging through it.

"Did I?" He asks, fingers moving down to the wound.

He hisses as he comes into contact, pulling his red-stained hand away with a few curses to follow. 

"Hey, don't do that," she reprimands, "don't make it worse. I gotta stitch it up. I ain't gonna lie, it's gonna hurt like a bitch."

"Can we's skip to the part where you's save the day and I get to, I dunno, swoon?"

"Only you could joke at a time like this," she shakes her head, and Race grabs her hand.

"Hey," he whispers, eyes locking with hers, "I love you, Spades."

She freezes, all too aware of the presence of her fellow Brooklyn newsies in the room.

"Don't say it like that," is her response, Race's face falling a bit.

"Like what?" He asks hoarsely.

"Like a good bye," she says, eyes watering, "Antonio Higgins, you cannot have the first time you tell me you love me sound like your final words."

"Ain't you's gonna say it back?" Race jokes, watery smile on his face.

"Oh god, Tony," she lets out a scoff-like laugh, a tear slipping down her face, "I love you. I love you so much."

She leans forward and presses her lips to his, hand caressing his cheek. She feels a few more tears slide down her face, and her breath hitches as she pulls away. 

"I gotta fix you up, okay?" She says unevenly. "'Fore it gets any worse."

Race nods, letting the girl move him onto his side. 

"Checks get me some hot water and all the rags we's got," she says, "I's gotta clean up the blood 'fore I can stitch 'im up."

"He gonna be okay?" Spot asks quietly, worry lines prominent on his forehead.

"Ask me when I'm done."

\---

She sits at his side, fingers combing themselves through his hair as the boy sleeps.

"So," Spot starts, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, "you love 'im, then."

She stares down at Race's soft face, nodding.

"More than anythin'," she whispers, "I'm sorry, Spot. I know how you's feel 'bout 'Hattan, but I...I'm not givin' 'im up. You can't expect me to."

Spot nods a bit, walking into her room and taking a seat in front of her.

"I don't expect you to," he finally says, "the bad feelin's 'tween Brooklyn and 'Hattan are more 'tween me's and Kelly than anyone else. S'long as he's good t' ya I ain't got a problem with it."

"He's the best," she smiles, "likes t' act tough, but he ain't gotta mean bone in his body. Not when it comes t' me, anyway."

"That's good," Spot says, "I may not act like it sometimes, but I care 'bout you's 'n your happiness, Spades, 'n if 'Hattan...if Race makes you happy, then I's happy for ya."

She smiles in thanks as he leaves, switching her attention back to her boyfriend.

"Wha..." Race stirs, lifting his head up slightly as he blinks his eyes into focus, "where am I?"

"Shh," the girl soothes, placing a comforting hand on his forehead, "s'okay. You's in Brooklyn, my room t' be exact."

"Your room?" Race asks. "I should get outta 'ere 'fore Conlon sees."

"He's the one that tol' me to bring you's up 'ere," she laughs lightly, "you don't 'member much from last night, do ya?"

"I..." Race pauses, furrowing his eyebrows. 

He's silent for a few moments, then realization crosses his face as his eyes lock with hers.

"No wonder I'm sore all over," he says, "thought we jus' had a fun night."

"God," she groans, dragging a hand down her face, "you seriously had to make a joke like that at a time like this?"

"You love me though," he smiles, brushing his hand across her face, "I knows ya do."

"Yeah, I do," she sighs, laying down next to him, careful not to knock his torso, "next time try not t' get yaself killed 'fore you's tell me."

"What did Spot say?" Race asks, eyes slipping shut as she presses a kiss to his cheek.

"He's fine with it," she replies, "but we's can talk 'bout that later. Rest now, darlin', let yourself heal."

"Love you," he breathes as he falls asleep.

"Love you too, Tony," she whispers, "sleep well."


End file.
